


our love was made for movie screens

by levesquelsimp



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Multi, Romance, i hope you like it either way, i'd like to think this is subtle romance lmao, is this really angsty? idk, lowkey sad (??)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24893023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levesquelsimp/pseuds/levesquelsimp
Summary: Leo isn’t sure when it all started.It began after the war, of course. But sometime between rebuilding lives and attempting to mend broken minds, the comforting touches grew longer. Frank would tuck him into his side just a little too tight, and Hazel’s fingers would linger across the heated skin of his palm just a little too long.
Relationships: Hazel Levesque/Leo Valdez/Frank Zhang, Jason Grace/Piper McLean
Comments: 13
Kudos: 135





	our love was made for movie screens

**Author's Note:**

> (i've never written a one shot before, so *pls* cut me some slack lmaooo)
> 
> it's currently 6 am and i've been up all night listening to the same song over and over and i'm *crying* and i decided to write this. since I'm typing through tears rn, i guess you could call this sad? (disclaimer: i'm dramatic af)
> 
> but like, it's sad and hopeful at the same time? ugh, that makes no sense.
> 
> anyway, i hope you enjoy! 
> 
> song: "all i want" by kodaline :')

_“alone without you by my side…”_

Leo isn’t sure when it all started. 

It began after the war, of course. But sometime between rebuilding lives and attempting to mend broken minds, the comforting touches grew longer. Frank would tuck him into his side just a little too tight, and Hazel’s fingers would linger across the heated skin of his palm just a little too long.

But he finds that he doesn’t mind. Not much. After all, human touch is human touch. Percy and Annabeth opted to return to Camp Half Blood, and Leo chose New Rome-- the first place to make amends after his brief possession. Frank and Hazel are all he’s got. Piper’s gone, having left to travel the country with Jason on his quest to build temples as they try to figure out their relationship without the “pressures of war” and “influence of Hera.”

It’s been three years, but he understands.

But _human touch is human touch_ and he also can’t find himself wanting to pull away whenever Frank gives him a lingering hug (he’s been big on hugs lately), or when Hazel brushes her knuckles through his curls. Leo doesn’t _want_ to pull away, but then he remembers their history-- the jealous stares, the clasped hands, the travels through time that only ended in tears-- and his heartbeat quickens and his tongue tastes sour and he always jerks out of their embraces, cheeks hot and hands shoved into his pockets.

When Hazel asks him about it, he pretends not to know what she’s talking about. An island cloaked with mist and fog, alight with small fires, dances across the front of his mind and Leo shakes his head.

“What are you talking about?” He says, turning away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They both pretend not to notice how his hands shake.

* * *

_“when you said your last goodbye…”_

He has dreams a lot. 

They never really ended after the war. It’s more or less of the same thing, his body bursting into flames, him relentlessly teasing Frank about his worth. It’s all the same, it all ends the same.

More often than not, Leo finds himself sneaking out of the barracks, wiping tears from his face as he struggles to catch his breath. He lifts his gaze towards the night sky, watches the stars, and finds that his chest is hollow.

He misses Piper. He misses Jason. He misses having a purpose to exist, having a prophecy to fulfill. It was something that gave him _meaning_ , as depressing as the notion sounds.

_But,_ he reminds himself with a flair of positivity that he isn’t sure is genuine, _you can’t be a seventh wheel when two of the couples are gone. Look on the bright side._

* * *

_“all i want is..”_

“ _Holy Hephaestus!_ ”

Frank blushes deeply and leaps out of the way, securing the towel around his waist. “What are you doing here, Leo?”

He trains his eyes on the ceiling, feeling his face grow hot as the muscular outline of the son of Mars’ chest dots his peripherals. “I’m trying to take a bath here, Zhang,” he says with practiced sarcasm. “It’s called a _bathhouse_ for a reason.”

Frank grunts, but says nothing.

They both pretend not to notice how their respective breaths grow uneven as Frank passes Leo on his way out.

* * *

_“i lay in tears in bed all night…”_

One night, after a victory for the Fifth Cohort during War Games, Frank crushes the both of them into a hug. Leo doesn’t fight to pull away, even though his instincts scream that he’s a danger to them all.

_Don’t get too excited,_ his mind taunts. _Don’t wanna turn them all into human torches now, do you?_

His heart slams against his rib cage and he tears out of Frank’s grasp with a swear. Leo can’t breathe, why can’t he ever breathe? The stars in the sky resemble holes punched into the lid of a box, allotting small wisps of oxygen to inhale.

When he storms away, terrified out of his mind as his skin heats and his fingers begin to spark with flames, he misses the emotional look that Frank sends him-- one filled with confusion and hurt.

“You’re such an idiot,” Leo huffs to himself later that night, rolling over in his bed. He shuts his eyes, and all he can see is damned _Frank_ in the damned _bathhouse_ wearing nothing but a towel and spare water droplets clinging to his black hair. “ _Idiot, idiot._ ”

* * *

_“all i need is…”_

Leo keeps running into Frank at the bathhouse. 

Every time, he pretends to be surprised, pretends to be embarrassed, pretends not to look at the muscles coiled tightly beneath the skin covering his shoulders, pretends not to appreciate the corded length of his biceps.

When Frank passes him, every time without fail, his skin brushes against his, bringing with him the scent of fresh soap and shampoo. 

Leo, every time without fail, stiffens. But he never moves out of the way.

Neither of them ever move out of the way.

They both pretend not to notice.

* * *

_“if you loved me…”_

Hazel finds him one night, keeled over and palms pressing into his knees as his breaths run ragged. She’s by his side instantly, never asks questions, only offers silent solidarity.

Leo feels his heart burst and manages a small smile. “You don’t have to do that…” he trails off while edging away. 

_Fire, don’t forget about fire._

“It’s not about what I have to do,” Hazel explains calmly. Her serene face is tilted up towards the sky, but her fingers dance across the planes of his coppery skin, around his knuckles and over the lines etched into his palms. 

She wears sixteen well. 

Then her golden eyes flicker to his, but in the deep murkiness of the night, they appear more brown than ichorous. Leo sort of likes it that way.

“It’s about what you need,” she whispers to him, breath fanning over his cheek.

“I-” He struggles for words.

Hazel smiles more at that. She pulls him into a hug- _fire, fire, fire_ \- before pulling away while squeezing his hand. “Good night, Leo.” She glances around before, “You should really bring a hoodie with you. It gets chilly at night.”

* * *

_“all i want is nothing more…”_

Frank surprises him the next day.

Leo stares at the hoodie, _Frank’s hoodie_ , with an arched eyebrow. “What is this?” He looks up at the East Asian boy with heat behind his eyes, peering through his lashes. His chest feels full, and his stomach tingles.

Frank smiles down at him, a dusky shade of pink dressing his otherwise pale cheeks. He shrugs with nonchalance. “Heard you were in need of a hoodie.”

A chilly breeze blows in, and Leo forces down a shiver as he takes the purple and gold clothing from Frank’s outstretched hand. He shrugs it on immediately.

He pretends not to notice how his breath isn’t even anymore. 

He pretends not to notice how Frank inches closer, pretends not to notice so he doesn’t have to inch away.

He ignores the fact that he doesn’t need a hoodie, not as a fire user.

Leo sleeves his arms through the holes, pushing the ends that hang off his wrists before rolling them up to his elbow. The hem dangles past his mid-thigh, and he realizes that it smells like both of them. It smells like wood from the archery range and metal from the forgery. It smells like _his_ shampoo and _her_ scented body lotion. And it’s warm. So, _so_ warm.

Frank rocks on the balls of his feet.

Leo peers up at him again through his lashes, feeling a taunting smirk grow over his lips. “Thanks. I like it.”

He files the sight of Frank’s bright smile away for later. Leo finds that he likes it too.

* * *

_“cause if i could see your face once more…”_

“Something’s different about you,” Piper narrows her eyes as she stares at him. She’s just visiting, a fact that she sorrowfully made clear, but he’ll take any moment with her that he can get.

Sisters are hard to come by, after all.

Leo shoves the hoodie he’s pulling on back into his trunk. His heart races and he shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pipes.”

Her attention lowers to his trunk of clothes before flitting back to his face. “Mhm,” she draws out a hum. She sniffs the air. “You even _smell_ different.”

He swallows. “Didn’t realize you decided to join K-9 on the side.”

“Oh, shut up.”

* * *

_“but if you loved me, why’d you leave me…”_

“Why are you wearing a hoodie _under_ your army jacket? It’s like, sixty degrees.” Jason makes an idle comment as he and Piper prepare to leave.

Through the corners of his eyes, Frank visibly stiffens and Hazel busies herself with her _spatha._

Leo rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his stomach begins to pump fire into his blood, the way his fingers fidget with the hem of the purple hoodie. “Sometimes fire users have to keep warm,” he mumbles lamely.

The excuse is as bullshitty as they come, and judging by the looks his friends send him, they both know it.

Piper’s versicolored gaze roams Leo’s face again before she tugs him into another hug, a firm one that doesn’t leave him terrified of setting aflame. She presses her lips to his cheek and right before drawing her limbs away from the comforting embrace, her voice slides to his ears in whispered vines. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He swallows thickly.

_She knows. She knew before he knew it himself._

Leo’s arms wrap around her just a bit tighter, clinging for dear life because _gods,_ he misses her so much. “I know,” he responds with so much honesty it turns his tongue dry. “But there’s nothing to tell. Not now.”

Piper gives him a gleeful smile when she finally pulls away. 

Jason gives him a hug.

They say their goodbyes.

And then they’re gone.

Leo tries his hardest to ignore the sting, how his tears gather together to form little pools in the corners of his eyes, how his vision blurs and he huddles deeper into the hoodie and jacket draped over his abdomen.

_Damn it,_ he curses himself. _Now is not the time. So not the t-_

And then a firm hand settles on the top of his head, fingers sinking gently into his curls. Leo’s thoughts are halted, and the scents of shampoo and body lotion overtake his senses.

Frank settles against his right. Hazel appears at his left. 

None of them say a word, only watch Piper and Jason disappear into the tunnel before vanishing from sight.

Leo extends his fingers past the edges of the hoodie sleeve. Refusing to look down, his hands slowly search for others, and when he finds purchase, he can’t keep even the smallest of smiles from tugging at his lips.

Frank grips at his fingers, large hand swallowing his palm in strength and comfort and warmth. Hazel does the same, but her thumb circles around his knuckles.

They huddle together when a strong breeze blows in.

And none of them say a word.

* * *

_“i could die a happy man…”_

“You know,” Leo says to Frank on his way out of the bathhouse, right when their skin brushes against each other. And then, for the first time, he looks at the older boy, really looks at him. He drinks in the sight for a second longer than he should, as proven by the red heat steadily climbing in his face. “Being alone all the time… it isn’t…”

Leo looks away, the embarrassment of what he was planning to say next a bit too much to bear while carrying the load of a straight face. He can’t bring himself to say anymore, but a part of him knows he doesn’t have to.

Frank hums in acknowledgement, his hand patting the top of his head gently, before he grips the bit of towel around his waist and heads off.

From then on, Leo doesn’t have any more run-ins with Frank.

Instead, they arrive together.

As Leo slides into the bath, stomach tingling and cheeks hot and eyes focusing on everything other than the East Asian boy who sits a little ways from him, he realizes with satisfaction that he doesn’t have to fear bursting aflame when he’s surrounded by water.

* * *

_“cause you brought out the best in me, a part of me i’ve never seen…”_

He still dreams a lot.

He still wakes up crying.

But more often than not, he’ll run into Hazel on his walks. And he can’t find himself complaining about that, not when she makes him laugh and makes him _forget_ , if only for a little while.

Seeing Hazel, cloaked in nighttime and soothing smiles… Leo doesn’t feel as hollow anymore. 

He still misses Piper, still misses Jason. But he doesn’t miss being a pawn, doesn’t miss bearing the weight of fulfilling a prophecy anymore. 

He isn’t sure when the change happened. Leo doesn’t know when he started healing, but he likes to associate it with the hoodie, the purple and gold one that now smells like firewood and _his_ shampoo and _her_ scented body lotion.

He likes to think of it as a symbol.

Paired with his army fatigue jacket… well, no amount of Imperial gold armor can compare. Frank calls it cheesy, but he smiles. Hazel calls it sweet and blushes prettily. But Leo calls it the truth.

The absolute best of the truth.

* * *

_“our love was made for movie screens.”_

Leo isn’t sure when it all started.

It began some three years after the war, of course. But sometime between getting over the sting of his friend’s absence and healing himself of that hurt, Frank and Hazel shoved their way in, through lingering glances and comforting touches and warmth.

Which brings him to now, five years post-war. He stares up at the night sky, folded arms behind his head as the grass tickles his skin. The sun is rising, deep blues fading into pale pinks and reds. He lies between Hazel and Frank, a position that’s proven to be quite common.

Leo stares up at the shooting stars, feels his fingers coiled around theirs. None of them speak, but they hardly need words to speak. 

“I…” Leo tries to say something, but the syllables have made a habit of perishing on his tongue. He sucks in his cheeks. “I just want you guys to know…”

Silence.

Another shooting star.

Beside him, Frank squeezes his hand. “We know, Leo,” he whispers.

Leo suddenly feels like his body is floating into oblivion, like gravity is no longer his sole anchor tethering him to the ground. Heat flashes into his face, as usual, when Hazel curls into his side. 

“I love you,” Hazel kisses the heated skin of his neck. “And it’s okay if you can’t bring yourself to actually say it,” the daughter of Pluto cards dark fingers through his dark curls. “We know.”

He shallowly nods.

Frank rolls over onto his front, tossing a heavy arm over Leo’s stomach-- an action that elicits an _oof!_. His breath dances against the side of the Latino boy’s face, mingling with the grass as he settles his head on Leo’s arm. “I love you,” he whispers into his ear.

It’s then that Leo realizes that his instincts don’t scream at him to pull away, don’t remind him not to spontaneously burst into flames. And upon reflection, he realizes that his instinctual fear has been silent for quite some time.

This time, he doesn’t have to pretend not to notice.

Leo, feeling the small tears drip from the sides of his eyes, feels his fingers fidget. They tap against his skin, again and again, before the tips move to Frank’s knee, to the outside of Hazel’s thigh. The pattern is the same, over and over. His chest is so _full._

Whether or not they understand the message-- which they _should_ after he’d spent three weeks teaching them Morse Code the month before-- isn’t his concern, really.

But maybe it is.

Because when the sun rises fully and Hazel gently kisses his tears away and Frank keeps whispering the same words to him again and again, Leo finds himself adding on to the pattern.

_Both of you._


End file.
